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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26485372">A Martian Outing</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ncruuk/pseuds/ncruuk'>ncruuk</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Expanse (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst Free, F/F, Future Fic, One Shot, a bit sweary like the show</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:55:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,915</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26485372</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ncruuk/pseuds/ncruuk</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After a decade or so of peace in the Sol System, former Gunnery Sergeant Bobbie Draper is finishing her first lecture at the Martian Military Academy when a Cadet asks a question that Bobbie gets some help answering.</p><p>[Little future ficlet, set in a Sol system where everyone has managed to work out how to get along after the events of s3 so I can just focus on Chrisjen/Bobbie fluff!]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Chrisjen Avasarala/Bobbie Draper</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>49</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Martian Outing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Vague awareness of who the good guys and bad guys are through s3 helps but isn't essential.  I'm just writing Chrisjen/Bobbie fluff because this idea attacked me.  I have not read the books so all assumptions about Mars' society and geography are assumptions made by me with possible hints from the early seasons of the TV show.  But it's basically Chrisjen and Bobbie being (hopefully) fluffily cute and a bit sweary.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“No fucking clue.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>From the faint gasp she heard echo around the Martian Military Academy's main lecture hall, Bobbie Draper realised that she was perhaps supposed to have been a bit less blunt with her answer, but she didn't care. It was the truth.  "But…" she continued, knowing it wasn't fair to take half a lifetime of fury out on these cadets, "...that's because I'm a Gunny." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The promotions and medals she'd been given since that second discharge were her redemption by Mars and the reason she was now stood at the front of this lecture hall, trying to answer this fucking question, but they didn't have any relevance to her answer. Whatever her rank had become was only of relevance for her retirement credits and the uniform she was supposed to wear if ever she went to something ceremonial.  In her heart and in her mind, she was always going to be a Gunny.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"People like me get sent by the officers you hope to be to solve the problem someone’s made.”  A snort from someone on the front row was a poor attempt to contain laughter, but Bobbie continued seemingly unperturbed though she did mentally acknowledge a previous explanation of hers on this point had included ‘fucking politicians like you’ and angry arm waving that had quickly turned from heated argument to heated sex which she definitely wasn’t thinking about now she stood in a room full of 200 or so cadets. “All I can do is try not to die. How people like you cope with that if I don't manage to stay alive?" She looked around the hall, making cold eye contact with every scared gaze, letting her words burn in their brain.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Every gaze except one. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There, front row right, tucked up against the wall her fierce look was met by one of equal passion and emotion but no fear.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In a microsecond Bobbie's eyebrow twitched and her eyes lost their challenge, softening and then sparkling when she saw the tiny acknowledgement and agreement. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No fucking clue how you cope." She repeated, her voice still cold and distant, once more sucking the air from her audience as she returned her focus to the room as a whole. "But…" She shifted from her unconscious at ease stance and crossed the speaker's platform in easy strides, her voice softening. "... I'm not the one you should ask." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As she came to a stop in front of her target, she was aware of the cadets straining to try and see who she had approached, their confusion palpable in the same way she'd been able to feel the panic in the enemy when they saw her up close in battle. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Holding out her hand, she couldn't stop the smile that broke out on her face as she heard the gasps and spontaneous applause that rippled through the room as, stiffly due to this 'fucking cold planet', former United Nations General Secretary Chrisjen Avasarala stood up and, not letting go of her hand, walked with her onto the podium. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Raising her free hand in a request for silence, Bobbie sought out her curious cadet. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Ask your question again Cadet." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Ma'am." It amused her in a way she couldn't explain to see him leap to his feet and stand crisply at attention. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"At ease cadet," instructed Bobbie quickly, squeezing Chrisjen’s hand in a silent request to at least behave until after he'd got his question out.  This was supposed to be a course that helped the cadets toughen up and grow in confidence, not get chewed out in the first session.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Gunny." He relaxed his stance and, visibly gulping in the artificial air, repeated his question, this time carefully directing it to the former General Secretary of Earth. "How do you cope with ordering people into battle knowing they might die?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No fucking clue." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a long, awkward silence as it sunk into the cadet that yes, this elder stateswoman of the Sol System, who had ultimately been one of Mars' greatest friends despite being an Earther, had just used the f-word with all the confidence of a sailor. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I know what you really want to know,” continued Chrisjen, shivering in the coolness of the room, grateful when she felt the warmth of Bobbie shift against her side, the tug on her hand encouraging her to lean against her, so she did. “You want to know what trick there is that you can learn which makes it easy for you to sleep at the end of every day someone dies on your watch.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With the innate sense of timing that had served her throughout her career, she paused, unknowingly allowing Bobbie to marvel at how she knew just how long to pause between statements, statements she wielded like the punches Bobbie threw in battle, leaving just enough time between them for their full impact to take effect. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And that I have no fucking clue about, thank goodness.”  Chrisjen held up her hand, pausing all emotional reactions in her audience, aware that there was a split second when traditional enmity could come to the surface and she, the lone Earther in a room full of patriotic Martians, could succumb to generations of hatred that were only just contained by the decade long truce.  “Because if you manage that you are no better than Sadavir Errinwright and others in our collective history who demand victory at all cost without thought for the sacrifice.”  On Earth she would also mention </span>
  <span>Korshunov, but here on Mars she consciously kept her rogues gallery references Earth-based, just in case.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the silence that followed, Chrisjen shifted against Bobbie, the silks of her outfit rustling loudly between them, drawing strength from her to give these bright young minds the truth they needed to understand, the truth she owed Bobbie to share.  Closing her eyes for a brief moment while she took a final centering breath, she felt the warmth of Bobbie’s hand settle on her hip as the one still holding her hand gave a brief squeeze, the affirmation that they were, once more, on the same path.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I remember the ships and lives that were lost, just as I remember the homes that were destroyed, Inner and Belter.  That will never change.  I regret every conflict I couldn’t prevent with words, every battle that my words and actions gave cause to…”  Bloody Sadavir and his taunting of her ‘Earth first’ teaching.  “...but what I do not regret is the reasons I had each time I decided it was necessary to request my words be augmented with violence and force.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She paused again, her eyes now focused on the individual faces of her audience who all looked so fucking young, all without exception born since the opening of the bloody Rings that changed everything in Sol for ever.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“For many generations Martians accepted that what was ‘right’ was what Mars wanted, just as Earth thought that anything a Martian wanted had to be wrong.  But in our lifetimes…”  She gently tugged on Bobbie’s hand, privately making the point who ‘our’ was in this context, acknowledging to her lover the important part she’d played in Chrisjen holding on to that mindset in the dark days of the past.  “...we have grown and understand that life is not so simple as to be divided into blue and red.  It has never been simple to divide life into ‘right’ and ‘wrong’, but you must always try to understand the reasons that demand you use violence and apply force as the solution.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the lengthening silence that settled over the room, Chrisjen turned into Bobbie a fraction, signalling to the Martian that she’d said all she had to say, her words leaving her more vulnerable and raw.   Now, after years away from the spotlight, she only selectively wore her version of Bobbie’s Power Armour and, after those few words, she’d shed it once more.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“People like me will go into battle with the assumption that we do so because it is </span>
  <em>
    <span>right.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”  Bobbie, tall enough to see over Chrisjen’s head, continued to fix a steely gaze on all the cadets, her own presence and force of personality meaning she drew their focus to back to her, despite Chrisjen’s body tucked neatly against hers.  “That is how we sleep after battle…”  The sharp eyed cadets wondered what had made the fierce Marine’s expression soften and lighten, unable to see that it was caused by the former General Secretary slipping her hand underneath the edge of Bobbie’s jacket and start to draw circles on her back with a gentle fingertip.  “...lies </span>
  <em>
    <span>should</span>
  </em>
  <span> keep you awake.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She heard the faint sound of the bell signalling the end of the session at the same moment she saw the more discrete indicator light at the back of the hall turn on as befitting the main auditorium used for guest speakers to the Academy, a room she’d never seen during her training and Service, but then Marines weren’t usually trusted with soft furnishings.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Class dismissed.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Knowing that the sound amplification system shut down when she dismissed the class, that set phrase being a command understood by automated system and cadet alike, Bobbie shut out the sounds of two hundred or so cadets leaving the room and directed her attention solely on the woman who was now effectively standing snuggled in her arms.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You do realise there’s no way of denying us now…” she murmured, pressing a gentle kiss onto still dark hair, knowing that despite what the gossip channels suggested, Chrisjen’s hair was still naturally dark.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t fucking care…” muttered Chrisjen, only to then lift her head and arch her stiff back just enough to see Bobbie’s face.  “...but are you alright with that?”  They’d never hidden their relationship once they’d each individually realised how significant it was to them, with Bobbie’s official home on Earth an address within the Avasarala complex, but with neither of them liking the limelight they’d never actively announced their relationship either.  Their preference for the quiet life split between Earth and Mars surprised those that didn’t know the former Secretary General, but Chrisjen’s career had been mostly spent in the shadows, preferring to be out of the spotlight where her influence could be wielded with skill and precision, free from the ‘image’ concerns that plagued those on display. It was her natural habitat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bobbie answered her partner’s concern with a gentle kiss to lipstick covered lips, the angle their heads were at limiting it to nothing more than a brief brushing of lips, but it was all they needed to have a conversation and reach agreement.  Bobbie hated everyone in Sol knowing her as </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> Draper, the one who kept changing sides, and had no desire to return to the spotlight.  Even all these years later when her actions had been properly understood by Mars once they had uncovered all their own lies and deceit, when she’d been promoted to Master Gunnery Sergeant and given a chest full of medals and commendations by both Mars and Earth, she preferred to live in the shadows.  She visited Mars often, seeing her family and the friends she’d made since those dark times before they understood how to live with the Ring, or accompanying Chrisjen when she was invited to give speeches or speak at Symposiums, but only now had she accepted an invitation to teach at the Martian Military Academy.  But there was one reason which would see her gladly charge into the spotlight, and that was the woman she held in her arms, the woman she’d ended up loving more than anyone in Sol or beyond.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I love you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I love you too,” confirmed Chrisjen, letting her head drop back onto Bobbie’s chest, vaguely aware of the glow or three of some hand comms taking a picture of them and not giving a fuck.  They’d never denied their relationship publicly because no one had the balls to ask them to publicly confirm it, but now, finally, they were perhaps going to publicly confirm themselves.  And she was fine with that, especially now she knew Bobbie was too.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I thought you were going to watch on the comm?” queried Bobbie, gently easing Chrisjen back from her body enough to free an arm so she could grab her comm with her notes from the lectern and shove it in a pocket.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I started to, but then I changed my mind.”  Chrisjen had been captivated by the fierce passion that had radiated from Bobbie as she’d started her first lecture of her series on the application of ethics in the military, a subject she’d become a diligent student of and subsequent expert in once she’d overcome the simplistic ‘blue is bad red is good’ mindset from her pre Protomolecule training and service.  “But I had forgotten how fucking cold this planet is.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bobbie had adjusted to the Earther preference for warmth relative to Mars’ climate controlled standards, and when she and Chrisjen came to Mars she made sure their accommodations were maintained at a temperate her lover could be comfortable in, with Chrisjen struggling more with the cold now she was, unbelievable as it was to Bobbie to even think it, in her eighties.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah.”  Bobbie kept her face carefully neutral, though Chrisjen could see her amusement at being likened to a heating coil in her eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Stop fucking laughing at me…” grumbled the former Secretary-General, accepting Bobbie’s offer of an arm and settling into their familiar strolling together position, Bobbie’s step instinctively slowing and shortening from her regulation Marine stride so she matched her shorter partner.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lunch then.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nice redirect.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I learned from the best...” They exited the lecture hall and went ‘outside’, though as Chrisjen was wont to repeatedly complain, ‘there was no fucking outside on this dusty rock’, a point Bobbie had learned a long time ago not to correct.  Mars still did have an ‘outside’, but with it only being accessible using vacuum suits like her power armour, few Martians had ever set foot on its red dust outside the military.  One day she would take Chrisjen out into the dust to see the beauty of the landscape that she’d seen as a Marine, but that wasn’t today.  “...hey!”  Bobbie came to a complete stop and made a show of rubbing her side where Chrisjen had playfully pinched her.  “Don’t you want lunch?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I…”  Chrisjen realised she hadn’t actually thought through her impulsive decision to follow Bobbie down to the lecture hall and not watch from the apartment they were staying in next door to where Bobbie was lecturing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Does it help if I promise to not feed you battle rations?”  The last meal Chrisjen had eaten at the Academy hadn’t been literal battle rations, but compared to the cuisine options available to them in civilian life on Earth, the Academy’s catering had been very institutional and not an experience Bobbie had lived down quickly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes…” agreed Chrisjen, settling back into her comfortable and familiar position nestled against Bobbie’s body, and not just because she was finding Mars cool.  “...but I was thinking I didn’t know your lunch plans and don’t want to be in the way.”  Mars was much friendlier to Earth now the peace was no longer feeling quite so fragile and temporary, but it wasn’t universal and Chrisjen knew that she was still a source of conflicting emotions for many of Mars’ population, including amongst the Military’s senior ranks who were struggling to adapt to their peacetime remit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not possible…” Bobbie brushed a gentle kiss to her partner’s hair as they resumed their leisurely stroll out into the heart of the open space that separated the military district from the government and entertainment districts.  “...and I’d planned to bring lunch back to the apartment for both of us.”  Last time she’d lived on Mars for an extended period of time, restaurant capacity was quite limited, with the very best places having long waiting lists for tables and, even when they did have space for spontaneous customers, there was a complex social protocol for who got the tables Bobbie had never understood beyond knowing she was never going to make the cut.  But that was then.  “You want to see if they have space?”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>‘They’ in this context needed no further explanation - there was only one restaurant in walking distance from here that served anything she’d let Chrisjen try, with all the others being overpriced artificial imitations of Earther food they could eat on Earth.  But there was one restaurant that had no Earth imitation and that wasn’t just a view shared by Bobbie and Chrisjen, but by most of the regularly visiting Martians to Earth, meaning it was on every visiting Earther’s ‘must try’ list and on every homesick Martian’s ‘things to do when I return’ list.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Has hell frozen over?” asked Chrisjen, liking the idea but being sufficiently realistic to know they would probably have to settle for a taking their food choices back in the apartment, as lunchtime tables were almost unheard of, which was a shame as the restaurant was also blessed with a rare view of the surface that even Chrisjen would probably concede breathtakingly beautiful and more than equal to Earth’s natural beauty if she ever saw it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe…”  Bobbie paused again, her attention caught by one of the newscast screens that covered the front of the main broadcast company.  “...look.”  She nudged Chrisjen to look at the screen, which was momentarily filled with an advertiser’s slogan before it returned to its latest ‘breaking’ news.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t fucking believe it...”  Bobbie stiffened, misunderstanding her partner’s reaction, something Chrisjen picked up on as she felt the muscles in Bobbie’s back shift under her hand.  “...how dare they call us fucking ‘new’!  We’ve been together longer than that fucker’s been on screen.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s what you’re cross about?” asked Bobbie, amazed that was her only problem with seeing the footage a cadet had taken of their kiss less than ten minutes ago had already been sold to the news station and was being broadcast throughout Sol.  As public displays of affection went, their kiss was tame by the usual standards of such ‘celebrity’ scoops, but as the rolling tag line was saying, it was also not a kiss between ‘friends’, as their love for each other was obvious.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course…”  Chrisjen shifted so she was standing facing Bobbie, her arms shifting so she was holding Bobbie close to her, not remotely concerned about what the ever present but ignorable security detail might be thinking about.  “...if they’re going to invite themselves into our lives, they could at least get it fucking right.”  And, with all the passion of a ‘new’ couple, but with the experience a decade’s worth of love brought, Chrisjen captured Bobbie’s amused lips with her own and showed her with her kiss how she definitely wasn’t cross with Bobbie or concerned about their new ‘relationship’ celebrity.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm…”  Slightly dazed from the intensity of the kiss, Bobbie rested her forehead against her partner’s.  “I love you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I love you too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Conscious that it was probably upsetting the security detail to have them standing still like this in about the most open space in the City, Bobbie gently coaxed Chrisjen to resume their stroll towards lunch, no words needed between them as they resumed their stroll.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Think we might get a table?”  asked Chrisjen after they’d seen their kiss be replayed on the big screen three more times while they walked towards the restaurant, people passing them by starting to do a double take when they realised who they’d just walked past.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Think we might just,” agreed Bobbie, not sure whether to be amused or frustrated by the situation, before deciding that if it meant she could treat Chrisjen to the most romantic lunch it was possible to have on Mars, she’d not care either way.  “Hi…”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a tactical awareness she’d never forgotten despite her years in civilian life, Bobbie had guided them to a stop in front of the restaurant’s welcome host with another of the newscast screens visible just over her shoulder.  Watching the reflection in the glazed wall behind the restaurant greeter, she saw the breaking news title reset just as she cut across the somewhat bored instruction that take out was collected next door.  “...we thought we’d come for lunch, window table for two please?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When she felt Chrisjen about to cut in, she gently gave her a discreet warning tap on her shoulder, silently encouraging her to just curb her impatience for another few seconds and let Bobbie continue, something Bobbie rarely did as she really was happier being a woman of few words, especially when Chrisjen invariably had more than enough for both of them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No reservation…” she added, seeing the bored greeter’s disdainful gaze start to dip down to the hand comm they were holding, pulling their gaze and focus back up to her face just as...she didn’t need to see the reflection to know the moment the newscaster’s face cut away to the clip of their kiss, as she could see the dawning realisation that, for this moment at least, she and Chrisjen were worthy, as it was clearly them even without Chrisjen’s distinctive coloured silk top.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course Ma’am…” And, with a brisk efficiency that was characteristic of Mars’ very best customer service, they were ushered into the inner sanctum, straight towards a window table.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is…”  Chrisjen stopped when they got to their table, distracted by the view of the rich red gorge and the mountains in the distance, all bathed in the brilliant sunlight of the middle of the day.  “...beautiful.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“One day I’ll take you for a walk in that dust…” promised Bobbie, standing behind Chrisjen and wrapping her arms round her, wondering why the view was surprising her partner before remembering that the times they’d eaten here before had been when it was dark on the surface.  The first time Bobbie had seen it she’d been stood in the dust as a Marine cadet about to try her power armour out ‘for real’.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’d like that,” agreed Chrisjen sincerely, resting her hands on top of Bobbie’s for a moment before moving to sit down, smiling at the familiar gesture of chivalrous love as Bobbie stepped smartly ahead of her and pulled out the chair then nudged it forwards for her after she’d sat down.  “It’s quite beautiful.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Only quite beautiful?” teased Bobbie, sitting down, vaguely aware that their arrival had caused a few murmurs and comm flashes but for once glad that the security detail would deal with anything that needed dealing with.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s the second most beautiful thing I’ve seen on this fucking rock.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“After the departure gate for Earth?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“After you, you fucking idiot.”  Chrisjen activated her menu screen, and carried on like she’d been commenting about the weather.  “Now, what are we eating?”  She looked up and registered Bobbie’s expression, blushing as she registered its significance.  “From the menu...this menu, for lunch, now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes Madam Secretary General.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck off Marine.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They were, as romantic endearments went, two of the most unique ones ever uttered in this restaurant, but then they were a unique couple who didn’t give a flying fuck what anyone else thought about how they loved each other.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But love each other they absolutely did, and now, thanks to that curious cadet and his question, all of Sol knew it.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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